It was her hair and figure that got his attention. He’d been milling about in the subway station since 9 a.m., waiting and biding his time for just the right specimen. He’d nearly given up hope when he spotted her platinum blonde hair through the crowd. He eyed her round Elizabeth Taylor sunglasses and began to salivate.
She stopped at the Market Street platform. The train was to depart at 1:35 p.m. He looked to the ornate clock on the wall. 1:25 p.m. Ten minutes, I can wait. He sat down on a crowded bench between two elderly ladies. He seemed to have interrupted their conversation, but he didn’t care. He kept his eagle eyes on his prey.
She stood near the edge of the platform glancing into the tunnel. He admired her. Stared at her body. Supple breasts. A heart shaped butt beneath yoga pants. This will be grand.
The tunnel rumbled and shook as the graffiti covered behemoth rolled to the platform. She was the first to step on the aged beast. He stood from the bench as did the old ladies. He sped across the floor to the open door and stepped in. She sat on one of the bench seats, not removing her sunglasses. He sat a seat away. Her purse occupied the seat between.
The train filled quickly. Soon, the entire car smelled of body odor and flatulence. The two elderly ladies, whom he interrupted earlier, became what he needed. When they hobbled onto the car, she gave up her seat for them. He followed suit and stood so close to her he could smell her sweat.
It was sweet.
The train lurched to life and opportunity knocked as soon as the lights dimmed. He stepped close to her and began his deed. He rubbed his body close against her, feigning others behind him forced him into this, like sardines packed into a can. His dick was instantly rock hard.
For several moments, it appeared she didn’t notice or was so used to these things occurring, that she didn’t see his ulterior motive.
He rocked back and forth with the natural flow of the train, feeling his dick rubbing through the material of his pants against the curves of her ass. It felt so good. He felt pressure building in his lower body. He wanted to touch. To feel. To experience the discomfort wriggling through her flesh.
He put his hands on her hips and felt the ejaculate running along the inside of his pants. He felt something wriggle on her hips, but neither were the wriggles of discomfort or gooseflesh. He pulled his hands away.
The car jostled and the lights flickered. He looked about in confusion, nearly losing his cool.
She turned sharply and stared at him through dark lenses. Her petite mouth tightened into an angry grimace.
“Eww, you fucking pervert! What the fuck are you doing?”
He stumbled in his thought process for a moment, trying to figure out what the hell he’d felt along this woman’s body.
His meticulously practiced response crept out, “I’m sorry!” he said with what sounded like genuine assurance. “The train is so crowded and that asshole behind me…!” He gestured at a confused looking man standing behind him. “…pushed me into you. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
He held up his hands in supplication and forced a puppy dog look across his sharp face.
“Ok,” she said, “it’s fine, just go somewhere else.”
She turned away, and he, in turn, slunk away in mock shame. He didn’t go far. He needed to keep a close eye on her. This was a different kind of woman. One, he was sure, he’d never find again.
The train pulled into Market Street at precisely one minute after two, and he watched her, five rows of seats separating them the whole way. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. She was unlike any other woman he’d ever groped on the subway. He had to know more about her. Had to see, at least, a small portion of her daily life. He thought he may be in love. True love, as far as he could tell. If only he could identify what was so different about her hips.
When the doors slid open, he watched her step out. He scrambled out the nearest door.
The platform was crowded and filled with a mélange of scents. Stale soft drinks, baby feces, body odor, and a sharp stinging smell that was hard to identify. He never lost sight of her. Her platinum hair bobbed up and down in a sea of darker shades.
He muscled his way through the crowd, his eyes on the crown of gold. She reached the staircase leading to the street and glanced back. He hunched low, hiding himself in an ocean of indiscriminate faces, though his eyes tracked her every movement.
She turned back to the stairs and he followed suit. Perhaps she’d lead him to where she lived. His mind kicked into overdrive with hope.
Above ground, the day was as gray as the interior of a well done steak. Clouds hung low in the sky forming a row of huge bubbles. Somewhere, in the distance, thunder rumbled.
She was perhaps twenty feet ahead of him. He bobbed and weaved in and out of alley entrances, behind phone booths, and behind as many people as he could. The wind picked up, blowing newspapers, soda cups, beer cans, and other refuse down the street in unfocused arcs. Blowing in that wind, he was certain was the scent of her perfume, sweet and floral mixed with something else. He thought it smelled a bit like almonds. Strange.
For three blocks he followed her, even as the surrounding crowds thinned and the environment grew more derelict the further they went. Aged brick and stucco buildings lay as shells of their former selves. Broken windows high above gazed down on the street from blackened apertures. At street level, most of the windows had been replaced by graffiti covered plywood. Each piece advertised allegiance to one gang or another.
She kept walking.
Where is she taking me?
She stopped in front of a tall brick building with shadows of a former sign. The building, he guessed, had once been a hotel in its glory days. Those days were long past. The dilapidated wreck looked abandoned. The roof leaned precariously to the west side. In a flash, she mounted the steps and disappeared into the yawning black void where a door once stood.
He raced up the steps and stood before the empty doorway. The thick scent of mildew, rot, fire, and feces hung stagnant in the air. He peered into the darkness. Dust danced in the air, illuminated through cracks in the plywood and brickwork. The remains of the lobby had decayed extensively, the reception desk had been attacked with a sharp implement at some point in its life, and the staircase to the second floor had collapsed, laying in heaps of detritus on the old hardwood floor.
So she doesn’t live upstairs. But where did she go so fast?
He nearly crossed the threshold before he thought better of himself. Best not push my luck. Turning, he climbed back down the steps and walked back into the dreary day.
Later that night, he couldn’t get his mind off that rare and radiant maiden. Her smell. Her body. Most of all, he couldn’t stop thinking about what lay beneath her clothes and what enticed him about her hips.
In his dank apartment, fruit flies swarmed in the kitchen and the living room. Vast mounds of uneaten food and discarded takeout containers littered much of the available space. Errant fly strips hung ineffectively from the ceiling. Posters of extreme closeups of female genitalia hung along the living room walls.
He sat in the bathroom, on the lid of the toilet, cock in hand, masturbating like a teenager who’d just discovered the act. His eyes were closed, sweat streamed down his face, and he licked his parched lips meanwhile visions of her raced through his head.
She danced before him in a blackened void, sensually removing one piece of clothing at a time. First went her sweater and next came the socks. He was in ecstasy watching this lovely creature dance just for him.
His jerking motions became more rapid when her shirt came off. Her bright blonde hair fell in playful curls along her small, well formed breasts. When her hands reached down to her restricting pants, he could hold back no longer. His cock shuddered and spat forth ropey white strands upon the bathroom floor. Her image faded from his mind’s eye.
He was back in the bathroom, disappointed that his vision had been just that. The musty, grey-hued bath mat seemed to wriggle along the cold tile. The puddle of jizz rapidly congealed on the floor. He stared at it with glazed eyes.
This woman has all of me, he thought. I can’t let her go. Never again. She is the only one for me. My everything.
At 9 a.m., from the confines of a trash filled bush, he watched her step down the crumbling stone steps and into the bright sunshine. He waited a few additional minutes before he edged out from his hiding place. Stretching aching limbs, he stood before the decrepit structure. The strong scent of decay emanated from the building itself. He pushed strange inklings aside and climbed the steps. He took a deep breath, crossed the threshold, and exhaled.
The lobby was dimmer than he’d remembered. Roaches scuttled between concrete chunks and broken timbers. He wished he’d brought a flashlight but that would take too long to acquire now. He advanced down a long, lightless hallway, weary and listening for signs of life. The building seemed silent except for the sounds of rats in the walls.
The hall received intermittent light through shattered shutters and broken plywood. Mice scurried between his feet. The further along he went, a strange odor built. A scent akin to vinegar mixed with human sweat. It was intoxicating. There were rooms on both sides of the corridor none showed signs of habitation. Well, no human habitation anyway. Vermin signs were everywhere. Gaping holes in the plaster showed evidence of raccoon and possum life.
After ten minutes, he found her room. It was not what he expected. The sparse furnishings were original to the building. A heavily stained mattress sat beneath a partially open window. A rat gnawed wooden chair sat in the center of the room, and a dresser, coated in dust, was pressed tightly against the far wall.
Here, the sweat/vinegar smell was the strongest.
He felt like he was in heaven. He crossed to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Gold mine! He’d found her panties. He grabbed the top pair, held them to his face, and inhaled deeply. They were moist and sticky. Reaching down, he unzipped his fly and began his deed.
Euphoria coursed through his frame. An unusual warmth filled his loins. Soon, he could not hold back his urges. Semen shot forth with the power of a fire hose. He collapsed onto the mattress, spent. It was then he heard the approaching footsteps. His body froze.
“What are you doing in my room?”
There she stood in all her feminine glory wearing the Liz Taylor sunglasses. Dirty light through broken slats highlighted her blonde hair. In addition to the yoga pants he’d fallen for, she wore a perplexed look.
“I…I…” he stammered through post-orgasmic shudders.
“Is this what you want?” she asked, cupping her breasts in her hands.
He couldn’t believe it. His dream was coming true. The limp sausage in his hand began to grow stiff.
She moved to his position, removing her shirt and bra in the process. She straddled him. Their bodies moved in unison with passion.
He couldn’t believe it was happening. Maybe the big man is looking out for me. His hands moved to her taut waist and legs. Slipping his hands beneath her waistband, his body shuddered. He hadn’t noticed the sunglasses fall away.
When her pants were off, he screamed. Tentacles wriggled from her hips and latched onto his dick.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?”
She stared down at him with gangrenous eyes.
He struggled to get away. He could feel sharpened barbs digging into sensitive tissue. In a moment, his organ was wrenched from his filthy body. His screech reached ear-piercing volume before he was silenced by another tentacle.
The last thing he saw was the animalistic pleasure upon his obsession’s face.